


Mr. Feathers

by CantSpeakFae



Series: Once More With Glitter [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angel being jealous of an owl is my aesthetic, Does anybody else miss Buffy's yo-yo from season 2?, F/M, Season 2 AU, This is happy vacationing in the land of not coping, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, We're interrupt all the angst to bring you whatever this is, interrupted kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: While Giles' life is going through major changes, Buffy's determined to enjoy her night off and get in some smoochy time with Angel.At least, she would if the night wasn't interrupted by an unexpected source.





	Mr. Feathers

Buffy sits on a headstone looking bored. The weary slump of her shoulders, the mindless fidgeting with a yo-yo, and the not-infrequent sighs all add to her air of "je ne care quois."

She looks for all the world like a teenage girl waiting for a secret meet-up with the older man she's not supposed to be dating, and that's because it's all true.  
  
Mostly, anyway.  
  
Beneath the utter insouciance, her Slayer senses are alert and focused. She could hurl the yo-yo with a flick of her wrist and knock out the squirrel perched on a tree branch three mausoleums away if she wanted to  
  
Which she doesn't. Hello, Slayer, not burgeoning serial killer, much?  
  
Still.  
  
Where is he?

“Buffy.”

Angel's voice seems to precede his actual appearance, as usual, with his feet making no sound against the soft earth in the cemetery. Even Buffy - at her most alert - has a hard time realizing when he's coming up on her and he doesn't have the desire to get a stake to the heart because of her impeccable reflexes.  
  
He's jesting. Mostly. He doesn't _really_ think she'd stake him, even by accident... but he does leave a gap of three feet between him and the and the headstone that she's perched on. Just in case.  
  
“I'm sorry I'm late. I overslept.”  
  
It's a very blase excuse, coming from him, but he actually _did_ oversleep this time. He's been staying up later and later into the day. Thinking about _her_. Wondering what he's doing when she's not with him. Not necessarily out of jealousy, though he'd been lying if he said he didn't think about the boys her age, who must be crowding around her, but mostly about what life must be like in the sun.

Buffy smiles at the sound of her name on Angel's lips. She sensed him half a second before he spoke  - she's getting better at it, but still not great. Practice makes perfect.  
  
She turns around, her smile widening as she takes in his crooked smile, sleep-mussed hair, and the affection in his eyes.  
  
As always, the sight of him fills her with both excitement and a sense of calm, the opposing sensations somehow coexisting peacefully within her.  
  
“You're here now. You get full brownie points.”

Angel smiles his appreciation at Buffy's forgiveness, but he still hovers a few feet away. He's not exactly sure which makes him feel more awkward in the moments before he can fall back into his dynamic with Buffy with comfortable ease: the creeping awareness that she, though a Slayer, is still human and he can hear her heartbeat and smell the blood that courses through her veins, or that she looks especially _innocent_ when she sits like that, smiles like that, and talks like that. An invitation to the darker nature that he's worked so hard at suppressing. He swallows, thickly, trying to think of his next words. He knows all of these details will fade the more he talks with her, but the looming differences between mortality and immortality always hit him when he first lays eyes on her.} 

“Gotten any action tonight?”  
  
He asks, deciding to break the ice, and then immediately regretting it when he realizes how that could be misconstrued, stammering out an amendment -

“Vampires! Any newly risen vampires, tonight?”

He looks to the undisturbed graves in front of her, for any sign of claw marks or unearthed creatures. Nothing sticks out to him.

Buffy's eyes widen and she bites her lips together to keep from laughing at the accidental innuendo. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and she shakes her head.

“Nope. It's deadsville around here, tonight.”

“That's a nice change of pace…”

Angel moves closer, finally, closing the gap between them and letting the contentment he feels when he's near him take its effect. He reaches out, taking one of her hands - the one that's not holding the yo-yo - in his, initiating contact. An unusual move for him.  
  
“You're here earlier than usual.”  
  
He notes. The sun hadn't set that long ago and he's not usually the last of the two of them to arrive. And he's not sure what else to ask about because all he wants to do is take her into his arms and kiss her.  
  
“Did your after-school training end early?”

“It got cancelled because I punched Giles this morning!” Buffy speaks brightly, until she actually hears what she's saying. “It was an accident, I mean! I've gotta stop letting Giles spar with me, he's, like, too old for it, you know? But I got the afternoon off, so still a yay. I hung with Willow and Xander after school, studied a bit after dinner, and then here...to practice for the World Competitive Yo-yo Championships, apparently…”

She grins, entwining her fingers with his, and hoping against hope she doesn't have a sweaty palm.

Angel laughs under his breath, relieved that she didn't flinch at the touch of his much colder hand, a small smile lingering on his lips at her recollection of what got her out of training. But he's more focused on watching her than listening to her gripe about what followed after - which is probably a good thing, because he'd be a little put out if she thought being in your thirties was "too old". He's seen two hundred years, after all - just appreciating the way the moonlight in Sunnydale makes her glow, softening her. She seems so at peace out here. Bizarre, even for a Slayer. Or maybe it's just that he's near? But he can't dare to hope that's what it is.

“Why don't we take a walk? See if it's this quiet all the way through?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She releases his hand to pull the yo-yo off of her finger, and stuffs it into the bottom of her bag, she slings the strap across her chest and hops down off the tombstone.  
  
Once she's on the path, she reaches out for his hand again.  
  
“Left or right?”

“Left.”

Angel decides, starting to lead off in that direction. The cemetery is quiet, but it's more peaceful than eerie when he doesn't have to be on edge, waiting for the sounds of fingers clawing at earth that holds down a newborn vampire. It's rare that a night goes by where no one rises, especially in Sunnydale, but not unheard of.  
  
“I haven't heard any tale of any upcoming apocalypses or dangerous enemies. A little weird for Sunnydale, don't you think? It's an off day when no one beckons for a demon snake or wakes the spirit of a mummified princess…”

“Angel!”

Buffy pulls a stake from her bag to knock on the wood.  
  
“Don't jinks it! I'm sure something that redefines evil is, like, on its way here, due to arrive any minute...so, can we try to enjoy the quiet while it lasts?”  
  
Buffy shoves the stake back in her bag, and steps up onto a curbstone, so she's almost eye to eye with him. She rests the palms of her hands on his chest, barely noticing the utter lack of warmth or the beating heart that isn't there.  
  
“I... I wanna enjoy some quiet...with you.”

He can't do much to hide the way his body jumped at her softer confession, and if his heart still beat it would have skipped one then, skin warmed by the touch of her hands to his chest even through the fabric of his shirt. Comforting...and enticing. His hand slides up her back, along her spine, daring to touch his fingers to the back of her neck and then tangle them in her blonde hair.

“I'd like that too.”  
  
He confesses, tilting his head down towards her. Not close enough to kiss but just enough to invite her to close the distance if she wants to.

“Yeah?”

Her heart's beating so fast, she can barely breathe, and his cool fingers against the back of her neck send the most amazing shivers through her whole self.  
  
She tilts her chin towards him a fraction of an inch, but it's enough to close the gap between their lips. And Angel closes his eyes the moment that Buffy's lips press against him and he uses his hold on her to draw her in closer than before, kissing her desperately like she's the sweetest thing he's tasted in years.

Kissing Angel is unlike kissing any of the boys she's kissed before. Those were clumsy, uncomfortably hot and sweaty kisses, exciting in the moment, but wilting under later remembering.

Angel's kisses were cool, skillful, just the right amount of wet...and continued to thrill her every time she indulged in remembering them.  
  
In the moment, there was only him, and her, and the connection they had, made stronger with every brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue against hers, every caress of his hands in her hair and along her back. Kissing Angel is the ultimate high, and she gives in to the moment with her whole being. There's the snap of a twig, in the distance, and Angel breaks the kiss to turn his head, inspecting for the source of the sound.  
  
“Buffy.”

“Hmm…?”

Buffy takes a moment to come out of her reverie, but the second snapping of a twig, still distant, shocks her back to reality like a bucket of ice water.  
  
“No, no, no!” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I'm gonna kill whatever it is so dead, you don't even know…”

It takes no small amount of will to loosen his grip on her, his heightened awareness of their surroundings helping him pinpoint exactly where the clumsy footsteps are coming from and his shared anguish at the interruption of their kiss causing him to darkly agree with her sentiment, even if only in his head.

Outwardly, however, he sighs and takes a step back away from her, head turned in the direction that the vampire - likely newly risen - is bumbling around, looking for the source of the blood he smells. Angel can feel his face shifting, teeth sharpening, and he waits for Buffy to take the lead.  
  
She is, after all, the Slayer.  
  
“Come on... I think we can kill it fast.”

She doesn't really notice his game face, not any more than she would notice a look of determination on Willow, or of uneasy humor on Xander's. It's just another facet of who he is.

Stake in hand, she runs lightly over the gravel towards the source of the rustling. She arrives...and there's no vampire.

No disturbed grave.

No demons.

Not even some misguided goth kid trying to impress a date.  
  
Just a few shrubs surrounded by taller grass that the landscaping team must have missed.  
  
She turns towards Angel with shrug when another twig snaps, this time followed by a disgruntled sounding cherruping noise.  
  
Frowning, Buffy uses her hand to push aside some grass...  
  
“Oh no! You poor thing!”  
  
She reaches down and retrieves a pale bundle from the ground, and cuddles it against her chest.

“Angel! It's an owl...and I think he's hurt.”

“What?”

Angel's almost sure that he's misheard her, his face shifting from "game" to "rest", and his brow furrowing with confusion at the sight of the _thing_ that Buffy has cradled to her chest. It does appear to be an owl and its wing is set at an awkward angle. It chirrups feebly and its large eyes regard the two of them with primal fear and confusion.  
  
“Buffy, put that back down. It's a wild animal; it's going to get you with those talons.”  
  
And he's not sure he likes the way it smells. There's something...off, about it.

“No, he's hurt, Angel...and I think he likes me…”

She smiles down at the itty predator and gently skritches beneath it's chin.  
  
“The ASPCA is way closed by now...and I can't afford an emergency vet.” She nods, decision made. “I'll take him home, so he doesn't get eaten by a cat or coyote or something, and I'll have mom drive me to the animal shelter on the way to school, tomorrow. I'll tell her I found him on my roof.”

“But...you just got here.”

He knows he's on the verge of sounding petulant, but he can't help it. Not only is his time with her being cut short, but the little, winged thing in her arms...it doesn't sit right, with him. There's something off about it.  
  
“It's a wild animal. It'll be fine if you leave it out here.”

“Angel.”

Her tone is heavy with disappointment in him, and the frown on her face matches perfectly. In fact...she looks eerily like Joyce does when Buffy brings home yet another note from Principal Snyder.

“I'm not leaving an injured creature out here to die.”

The owl chirrups in agreement, it seems, and nestles his feathery face against her body for warmth.

“Patrol called on account of avian injury.”  
  
She turns and starts to make her way to the cemetery gate. She stops, and the look on her face now is 100% hopeful Buffy.

“...Will you walk me home...please? Angel?”

“...Of course I will.”

There's a faint hint of a grumble still left in his voice, but he's not going to pass up the opportunity to spend more time with her over distrust of an _owl_. Especially since he doesn't know why the bird doesn't sit well, with him. He steps forward, and meets her at the gate with a faint smile.  
  
“Come on...I'll take you _both_ home.”  
  
She wins the argument, for tonight, but if anything happens...well, he knew better.

She bestows upon him a smile as bright and warm as sunshine, but without the burning to ash parts, and tilts her face towards him for a kiss. He leans in, ready to give her what she's wordlessly asking for, but before he can do more than brush his lips against hers, the owl in her arms makes an aggravated noise and cranes its head to try and _bite_ him.

He _really_ doesn't like that bird.

Buffy's disappointed in missing out on smoochies, yet again, but has to giggle at the disgruntled expression on Angel's face.

“Hey now, Mr Feathers, Angel's a friend...no biting our friends…”  
  
She scolds the owl gently and pets his ruffled feathers to soothe him.

“Come on. Let's get you home before that thing tries to bite you, too.”

Angel says, a faint scowl still tugging the corners of his lips down, and he pushes open the cemetery gate so she can step out onto the public sidewalk.

“Mr. Feathers wouldn't bite me, no he wouldn't…”

She heads out of the cemetery, cuddling and coddling the injured owl, and spends most of the walk home murmuring soothing things to the bird in her arms.  
  
When they arrive at 1630 Revello Drive, Buffy tucks the owl carefully under one arm, and climbs the tree outside her bedroom window one handed. She slips into her room through the open window, and turns to see if Angel's following her… and finds that Angel's already slipped inside of her bedroom and is standing in front of the window by the time she glances back behind her, watching her and the bird carefully.  
  
“I don't suppose you have a bird cage, here?”  
  
He says, looking around her bedroom for something she can set the owl in or onto. He doesn't know _why_ he finds the bird so unsettling... just that it does and he wants her to put it down before it becomes some kind of spirit-demon and attacks them both.  
  
“What about an old shoe box?”

“Ooh, or a NEW shoe box! Dad just sent me a pair of boots I begged him for all summer. Could you take them out of the box, please? It's by my desk.”

She sneaks quietly from her room to the bathroom, and returns in a few moments with a towel and a plastic cup of water. Angel crosses through Buffy's bedroom, careful not to jostle anything that's stacked on her desk in pursuit of the box. He picks it up with great care, knowing Buffy well enough to understand that she values her shoes more than she does most things, and carefully sets the previously untouched boots aside. He carries the box over to her bed and sets it aside, holding his hand out for the towel so he can line the box with it while she keeps her hold on the owl, not exactly interested in being nipped at, again.

“Here. Let me.”

Buffy smiles as she sets the cup of water on her desk, and hands over the towel to Angel.

“Have you made many pet beds, before?”

“...I knew someone that liked to keep birds.”

He murmurs and leaves it at that as he flicks the towel out, over the box, and then presses down on the fabric so that it fits snugly inside, creating a barrier between the cardboard and the bird that'll be tucked inside.  
  
“Not much of a nest, but it should work for the night.”  
  
He still doesn't like that thing, but rational sense is starting to overpower the irrational unease.

“It's perfect...don't you think so, Mr. Feathers?”

She croons softly as she gently places the owl into the box.  The cup of water is too deep to be accessible, but the saucer where she stashes extra earrings is just the right depth. She dumps the jewelry out onto her dresser, carefully wipes away the dust with a Kleenex, then places the saucer into the box, by the owls beak.  
  
Buffy then gingerly pours out some water from the cup into the saucer. After a moment, the owl leans forward and dips his beak into the water, and drinks.  
  
Satisfied with their mutual efforts, Buffy turns towards Angel and loops her arms around his neck. She tilts her head back to smile at him.  
  
“We did good, tonight. I think we should totes reward ourselves.”

Angel wraps his arms around her waist, relieved that the oddly scented bird is no longer in her grasp or near enough to cause either of them any damage and the bright smile on Buffy's face undoes any of the remaining tension in his stance.

“Reward… you want a trophy?”

Buffy rolls her eyes in good-natured exasperation.

“I refuse to believe boys were this dense 240 years ago. I don't care about trophies. I want smooching.”

“Oh. Well, I can do that.”

Angel smiles and tilts his head forward, brushing his lips against hers. Gently teasing and then pulling back, so that she has to tilt her head up to follow his mouth and meet him in a deeper kiss.

She rises on her tip-toes to kiss him back, and smiles as her lips press against his.

“Who needs a stinkin' trophy?”

Angel chuckles against her lips, tilting his head back down to deepen the kiss and tightening his hold on her waist. These are the moments that truly make him feel something; something more than the weight of his past two hundred plus years of wrongdoing. She erases all of it. Buffy parts her lips, wordlessly inviting him to taste her mouth. There's no place in the world she'd rather be than in his arms, kissing her Angel.

Angel's tongue slips between her lips, stroking against hers. But the movement is hesitant. She's always inviting him a step further...and deep down he knows that there's a line they shouldn't cross. he knows no such hesitation.

"Seize the day, 'cause tomorrow you might be dead" was her motto from even before she died.  
  
She moans softly as his tongue enters her mouth, her whole body lit up like a Christmas tree from excitement. Angel kisses her for a moment more, reluctant to pull back...but pull back he must, because he knows Buffy won't break the kiss first. She never does.

She whines as she feels him starting to pull back. Stubbornly, she steps back with her arms still around his neck, hoping to guide him to sit on her bed, for more comfortable continued canoodling.

Angel allows her to pull him closer, both of them falling on the bed...and a thud and a loud "SCREECH" reminds him that they're not alone in the room. Angel pulls back, just in time to see that "Mr. Feathers" has been firmly ejected from his box and landed on the floor, flapping his good wing frantically and spreading feathers everywhere.

“Darn it!”

Buffy rolls out from under Angel to scoop the freaked out owl up off the floor, and try to soothe him before he can wake up her mom.  
  
“I'm sorry Mr. Feathers, you're ok now, it won't happen again…”  
  
She frowns sadly at Angel.

“Your mother's awake.”

He can hear Joyce moving around, in search of the sudden screeching, and Angel moves to window.  
  
“I should be going.”

“No, no, no, no!”

Buffy curses under her breath and shakes her head sadly at Angel.  
  
“It was nice while it lasted... 'Night, Angel. See you tomorrow?”

"Always."

Angel pauses a moment longer, flashing her a faint smile...and then disappearing out the window before Joyce can step in and see him.

* * *

 

Buffy stares out the window after Angel leaves, morosely rocking the slowly calming owl in her arms, and thinking about some time in the distant future when Angel wouldn't have to leave her in the middle of the night.

  
She braces herself for a knock on her door, but apparently her mom has decided she just dreamed the screech, because the moving-around noises subside, and the house grows quiet again.  
  
Buffy sets the owl very carefully back into the box nest, and sets the box in the middle of her bed. She changes into pjs, washes her face and brushes her teeth, then crawls into bed. She pulls the box to the head of her bed, and surrounds it with throw pillows, for safety.*  
  
“G'night, Mr Feathers.”  
  
Buffy pets the owl good night, then turns off her light.


End file.
